


Beautiful to Take a Chance

by onekisstotakewithme



Series: Lessons Learned [1]
Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Ambiguous Relationships, Bisexual B. J. Hunnicutt, Bisexual Hawkeye Pierce, Body Worship, Canon Compliant, Episode: s06e12-13 Comrades in Arms Parts 1-2, M/M, Mild Smut, Self-Esteem Issues, queer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-10-25 20:05:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17731769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onekisstotakewithme/pseuds/onekisstotakewithme
Summary: Five times BJ calls Hawkeye “beautiful” and one time Hawkeye (kind of) believes him





	Beautiful to Take a Chance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alleyesonthehindenburg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alleyesonthehindenburg/gifts), [flootzavut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flootzavut/gifts), [docmccoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/docmccoy/gifts).



> ♥♥  
> Also Alleyes, I owe you a lot for this one ♥

The first time BJ calls Hawkeye beautiful, Hawk laughs it off.

It’s after a routine surgery in OR went sideways on BJ, still new to this operating theatre of the macabre and exhausted after a grueling ten-hour shift, and Hawk stepped in to help. Maybe because he remembered what it was like to be young, and new. Maybe because Hawk is a sucker for a pretty face. Maybe because it’s BJ.

They’re sitting in the change room now, heads leaned back against the plywood, when BJ looks over at Hawkeye. “Hey Hawk?” he mumbles sleepily.

“Yeah?”

BJ leans his head on Hawk’s shoulder, half-exhausted and wholly grateful, and gives him a look. “You’re beautiful.”

Hawk has learned to laugh at himself by now, has heard too many years of comments about his nose, about a mop of black hair, about looks that are never found on rugged movie stars like John Wayne. He can’t help but laugh at BJ, nearly dislodging him with a full body cackle.

When it subsides into giggles, he sees the curious look BJ gives him. So he shrugs and says, “it’s just surgery.”

And apparently it’s the wrong thing to say. BJ frowns a little, because he hasn’t been here long, and he doesn’t know that nobody calls Hawkeye beautiful, not even Hawkeye himself. “Hawk-”

Hawkeye nudges him off and stands up. “C’mon,” he says. “Let’s get some rest.”

“But Hawk-”

“Beej.” BJ stops, and Hawk sighs. “Just… Look, you need some sleep, you’re getting silly on me. I’ve seen less sap in maple trees.”

They stagger off back to the Swamp, but Hawk can’t ignore the speculative look BJ gives him when he thinks Hawkeye can’t see.

~

The second time it happens, the second time the word _beautiful_ gets tossed in Hawk’s direction (like a scrap to a dog, he thinks unkindly), they’re both sloshed beyond belief on the still’s worst.

Hawk is fixing a martini for BJ, still giggling over some stupid pun one of them made two hours ago that’s suddenly funny again, and humming out of tune to some Cole Porter song he can hear being played on someone else’s record player across the compound.

And then he turns to see BJ propped up on one elbow, watching him.

“Beej,” Hawk says, giggling a little as he passes over the glass. “I understand you haven’t been in the army as long as I have, but everyone knows you get in dutch for ogling your roommate.”

“I can’t help it,” BJ says, looking at Hawk over his martini glass as if he’s not sure which one he’s more interested in drinking. “Can I?”

“I think you can.”

“Not if you’re gonna insist on being beautiful,” BJ says.

“Don’t let Frank hear you say that.”

“Frank’s not here.”

“Then don’t let me hear you say that.”

“Why dontcha believe me?” BJ asks with a frown.

“Because I own a mirror. And every time I say ‘magic mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest one of all…’ it’s never me looking back.”

BJ rolls his eyes, which must take considerable effort with how drunk they both are. “You’re a dummy.”

“Boy if I were sober, I’d really resent that,” Hawk says, flopping back on his own cot. “Beej, you will be pleased to know that I get by perfectly fine without being beautiful.”

“Well you would, sure,” BJ says mildly. “If I thought you weren’t beautiful. But since I do-”

“Aw shut up and drink your martini.”

Wisely, BJ stays silent, but even when Hawk turns over in an imitation of sleep, he can still feel BJ’s eyes on his back. It makes him uneasy, and feels a little like a fight.

“Hey Beej,” he says after a few minutes of silence.

“Yeah, Hawk?”

“For someone who’s supposedly so smart, you really don’t know shit.”

There’s another silence, and then BJ snorts. “Goodnight, Hawk.”

~

By the third time it happens, Hawk has gone from outright denial to a quiet acceptance. He may not believe it himself but when BJ has his arms wrapped around Hawk and is gently stroking his hair, Hawkeye can almost relax into the embrace and the comfort, with the stumbling and hesitant litany of “Hawkeye, my Hawkeye” coming from BJ’s mouth.

BJ sounds so terribly young and it’s probably been so long since he held anyone besides his wife (Hawk tries to ignore the bolt of panic searing through him when he thinks of Peggy), but he still can’t keep from stiffening up when BJ whispers, “You’re alive and you’re beautiful.”

Hawk pulls away, only to look up into clear blue eyes rimmed with red. “You know there are doctors for that.”

“Huh?”

“For your eyes,” Hawk says softly, reaching up foolishly to touch BJ’s temple, to brush his thumb over soft skin. “Since you can’t see worth a damn.”

“What do I need a doctor for? I have you,” BJ says, and his arms are still so solid and warm that to dispute BJ’s remarks would be to break the spell. So instead Hawk reaches up, meeting BJ’s mouth with his own, and just for a second, he doesn’t feel scared or cold or helpless like he has the past few days. He feels warm and safe and loved.

When he pulls away, he and BJ stare at each other for a second, BJ’s breath warm on his face. “Hawk,” BJ says, and leans into to kiss him again. “God, Hawkeye.”

Hawkeye doesn’t remember the last kiss like this, something tender and soft and _beautiful_. It’s the first in a long time that he’s been part of something beautiful. But, he thinks, as he pulls away and presses his face into BJ’s neck to avoid meeting his eye, he’s sure that it’s all BJ’s fault.

~

The fourth time is also the first time, Beej’s hands wound in Hawk’s hair with Hawk between BJ’s legs.

“God, Hawk,” BJ groans, looking like a deity above Hawkeye, backlit by the lamp, his eyes shut and his head tilted back. “Amazing.”

Hawk can’t help but preen a little even as he continues taking BJ to pieces, though in the back of his mind there’s a sarcastic little voice that sounds a lot like Carlye, remarking how BJ wouldn’t be saying that if his eyes were open.

Hawk looks back up at Beej, only to find him staring back, eyes wide and dark, hands winding tighter into Hawk’s hair. “God, Hawk,” he says again, weakly. “Do you know what it’s like, seeing you with my cock in your mouth? To see you between my legs looking up at me like I’m the best thing you’ve ever tasted?”

His hand loosens its grip on Hawk’s hair, coming down to stroke Hawk’s cheek. “It’s beautiful,” he says, voice hushed in reverence. “You’re beautiful.”

Hawk wants to argue the point, but it’s a little hard considering he still has BJ’s cock in his mouth. And if he’s honest, he doesn’t think anyone has ever called him beautiful in bed.

 _Maybe it’s because he’s getting what he wants from you_ , Carlye’s voice says.

But BJ’s fingers are warm on his cheek, so much tenderness in a single touch, and Hawk closes his eyes shut and lets himself believe it for a moment.  
It isn’t the first time BJ says it with a certain type of reverence in the span of an evening.

He says it again and again, mixed with cursing that makes Hawk grin around his mouthful.

It’s whispered in between gentle kisses.

It’s murmured by instinct in the dark with the rocking of hips and the softness of BJ’s mouth on Hawk’s throat. _Beautiful._

And for a second, Hawkeye almost believes him.

~

The fifth time is on a sunny morning on another weekend, on another R&R, Hawk nestled into BJ’s chest, BJ’s arms wrapped firmly around him putting out heat like a furnace.

“Morning, Beej,” Hawk mumbles into a fuzzy chest, and he’s rewarded with a low rumbly laugh.

“Mornin’ Hawk. Sleep well?”

Hawk nuzzles in closer, BJ’s breath ruffling his hair. “Mmm.”

“You know, Hawk…” Beej says thoughtfully. “First thing in the morning… you’re beautiful.”

Hawk snorts, but keeps quiet.

“I mean it! With the sunlight coming in, it makes the silver in your hair glow, and your hair is all ruffled from sleeping… and I can see at least three love bites on your neck.”

Hawk peels open an eye to glare at BJ. “You put those there. What are you trying to say, Beej?”

“I said you’re beautiful,” Beej says gently. “You want me to say it again?”

“Beej, you don’t hafta spare my feelings. I know ‘m more of a pauper than a prince.”

“What you are is an idiot,” BJ’s voice is warm and low, as he strokes a hand up and down Hawk’s spine. “Don’t you know how beautiful you are?”

Hawk sits up, dislodging BJ’s arms. “Will you stop messing around?” he demands.

BJ blinks. “Huh?”

“Where do you get off always telling me I’m…” He chokes on the word. “Is that supposed to be funny? Cause if you look closely you may notice I am expressing zero mirth.”

BJ sits up, frowning too. “Hawk, why the hell would I kid you about that? I don't say things I don't mean, and I happen to think you’re beautiful.”

“See, there you go again!” Hawk says. “Look, pal, I’ve looked in the mirror a handful of times in my life, and I can tell you, it’s never Gene Kelly looking back at me.”

“I’m not in love with Gene Kelly, dammit, Hawk, I’m in love with you! Why won’t you believe me?”

“Because I know what I look like! Nobody...” He gestures to himself. “Nobody calls _this_ beautiful!”

“How is it that _nobody’s_ ever called you beautiful?” BJ asks.

“The last person to call me beautiful was my mom,” Hawk says, and feels the usual ache of pain in his chest at the thought. “But that was a long time ago. And moms have to say that stuff to their kids! It’s in all the rule books for parents, you _must_ know that.”

BJ just shakes his head and grabs Hawk by the shoulders. “Will you shut up for a second and listen to me? What do I have to do to prove it to you?”

Hawk shrugs helplessly. “You can’t.”

“Yeah? Watch me!” BJ tells him, pressing one hard kiss to Hawk’s mouth before pulling away. “Benjamin Franklin Pierce, you’re beautiful.”

“I’m telling you-”

“Shut it,” BJ says, pointing at him. “You’re beautiful, Hawk, and not just skin-deep.”

Hawk blinks. “If even that.”

BJ ignores him. “You’re the best surgeon I’ve ever worked with, skilled and compassionate and so good with the patients. It’s beautiful how dedicated you are to medicine, Hawk. It’s fucking _beautiful_.”

Hawk feels his skin start to heat up.

“You know what else? You’re hilarious. You crack a joke in the Swamp, and people in post-op laugh. I’ll come across Potter laughing at some crack you made to Charles three days after it happens. But it always feels like your best jokes are for me, and _that_ is beautiful, Hawk.”

Hawk can’t do anything but stare at BJ, as BJ reaches over and takes Hawk’s hand.

“Hawk,” he says softly. “When I’m inside you… when you’re rocking into me and saying my name… when you kiss me… the way you say my name so breathlessly as you fall apart… that’s beautiful too.”

“Well why didn’t you lead in with that?” Hawk asks, certain he’s bright red by now. “I’d have believed you much sooner if you’d brought up sex.”

“Because you’re not just beautiful when you come to bed with me,” BJ says, looking over Hawk’s hands, stroking a thumb over Hawk’s knuckles with a softness that makes Hawk melt. “You’re beautiful first thing in the morning when your hair is all fluffed up, and you’re beautiful when you’re talking about the Mud Hens with Klinger.”

“Beej-”

“And you’re beautiful when you talk about Maine and when you start prank wars with Margaret, and when you flirt with the nurses, and- and sniffing your food, and how you love banana sandwiches, and when you get that look of concentration when you’re knitting-”

“Beej,” Hawk cuts him off. “Just stop.”

“I’m not stopping until you understand. It’s not just the way you look that makes you beautiful. You’re one of the kindest people I know, and above all else, that makes you better-looking than any movie star.”

“And that’s great, Beej, but that’s not how everybody else sees me.”

“No?” BJ asks. “And how does everyone else see you?”

“Too long nose. Too many limbs that are too long and gangly. I look like a stick insect. The wrong face.” Hawk gestures to himself. “Extra fat in the wrong places and skinny everywhere else. A small cock.”

BJ snorts at this, inching closer to cup Hawk’s face in his hands. “You really believe that, Hawk?”

“I wasn’t aware there was anything else _to_ believe.”

“You’re beautiful,” BJ says again. “When your whole face lights up when you laugh? That’s gorgeous. When you look at me like I’m the best thing in the world? Arresting. The look you get when you get a letter from home? Heavenly. When you swear breathlessly in my ear? You’re a fucking knockout, you idiot.”

“Yeah,” Hawk says. “In the same way Igor is a gourmet chef.”

“No,” BJ says. “Because that’s not all. You think you’re not aesthetically pleasing? Just because you’re not Gene Kelly? That’s stupid, because I’m looking at you right now, and I can tell you that you’re more handsome than any of them.”

“But-”

“Shush.” BJ says, giving Hawk a searching look. “Your face is just right, dummy. Maybe your nose is long, but it gives you character that Gene Kelly could only dream of. Skinny arms and legs, so what? The food’s bad and you happen to be tall. I’ve heard women - and men - like that.”

Hawk feels his eyes well up again.

“And you happen to be soft in all the right places,” BJ says with a grin. “Trust me, I’ve explored most of them. And I haven’t seen too many cocks… but believe me when I say yours works perfectly and is pretty damn handsome to boot. But it isn’t just that.”

“It isn’t?” Hawk asks, a little breathless.

“No,” BJ murmurs. “It’s the curve of your ear, and the silver in your hair, and the scar you have from falling off your bike when you were six, and the blue of your eyes and the scar on your lip… you’re beautiful, Hawkeye.”

Hawk can’t take it anymore, he has to lean in and kiss BJ, the tears running down his face making the kiss wet, and he has to giggle when he breaks away again, BJ wiping away the tears with a gentle brush of his thumb.

“Do you believe me yet?” BJ asks.

“Not yet,” Hawk says. “But not because of any slacking on your part.”

“Does this tell you what you need to know?” BJ asks, kissing Hawk.

“Mmm.” Hawk is suddenly breathless, a tightening in his chest. “I think I may need to hear it again.”

~ fin ~

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the song "But Beautiful" and I owe that one (as I do the inspiration for the story) to Alleyesonthehindenburg ♥  
> Happy "Goodbye, Farewell and Amen" day to all y'all MASHers ♥♥  
> (thirty-six years later, and we're all still here!)


End file.
